Impossible Mello
by SlvrSoleAlchmst1
Summary: [Some shounen ai: Mello x Matt.] It was not often that Matt bothered to waste his energy fighting back against the unstoppable cyclone that was Mello, but he figured he'd make it last while he could.


Matt had no idea what had hit him. One moment he'd been sitting on the couch, gritting his teeth and swearing at some hand-held video game he'd played five hundred times already, and the next moment he was on his back with Mello's gun two inches from his face. The leather clad blonde had his chocolate bar hanging from his mouth, and Matt watched it melt at the edges of that slightly insane grin of his. Pointed, feral teeth bit down when Mello reached up to take hold of the treat. The dark candy made a swift snapping noise.

Matt could feel the metal springs of the couch gouging his back through the ratty cushions, but he didn't dare move a muscle. Well, what a grand display of fireworks they were about to have.

"What'd I do this time?" Matt drawled, resisting the urge to twist the weapon out of Mello's hand and turn the tables, like a move out of some bad Indie flick.

"You know damn well what you did," Mello spat. Then his tongue darted out to lick the flakes of chocolate from the corners of his lips. He held the bar in its shiny wrapper with his free hand; the other kept the gun trained casually between Matt's eyes. One wrong move and Mello could blow his brains out. Not that he _would_. And Matt knew it.

He snorted. "I've been inside this shitty motel room all day. I can't see how I could have fucked up if I've barely moved for twelve hours." Mello glared down at him from above, considering Matt's rebuttal with a twisted looking smirk.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. _Oh_. Put that gun up, you son of a bitch."

In a trice, Mello had withdrawn the weapon and tucked it away at his waist. Matt's eyes traced the movement, and his vision ran over the milky whiteness of Mello's stomach above those tight-as-hell leather pants as the gun was stowed. Had he been more careless, he would have let his thoughts distract him. But Mello's temporary obedience didn't bode well at all. Mello wasn't finished with him yet, and Matt could tell.

He grimaced as he was seized by the scruff of his shirt and hauled halfway up off his back. Mello was straddling him now, the leather of his pants creaking as he positioned himself threateningly above Matt's hips. Matt supposed he would have thought it hot as all hell if Mello hadn't snarled murderously while he was pouncing. The tinted lenses of his goggles fogged as Mello breathed raggedly in his face, livid. Matt couldn't help it. A grin curved its way onto his features.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" Mello screeched, giving him a little jarring shake to emphasize his fury. "I'm telling you that you fucked us over, you jackass!"

"How so?" Matt asked calmly, restraining his grin and contenting himself with noting the way that Mello's hips were grinding against his own. Shit, he had better think of an excuse to get Mello off of him fast, or he was going to lose himself and earn another assault in the process.

"I told you to monitor the cameras while I was gone! Something _happened, _idiot, and I looked like a fool when I went in not knowing I'd been beaten to the prize already."

"Sorry about that," Matt replied. But he wasn't. Not really.

"Quit lying," Mello hissed. "All you're good for is wasting your sloppy carcass on video games and getting on my god damn nerves."

Matt chuckled at that one. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of Mello's hair behind his ear. Mello trembled with rage, but surprisingly enough, he did nothing except hold on tight to Matt's boldly striped shirt. The golden strand had been hanging down in the narrow space between them, tickling Matt's cheek. They waited there for a moment, anticipating who would move next, while Mello's lips formed a thin line of ire. If Matt moved first, there was a good chance he would flip Mello over and take him right there on the stupid, rickety couch. Screw any protests. If Mello was the one to crack, Matt was sure the result would be his untimely death. Then again, he'd probably end up dead anyway if he started trying to suck Mello off in the middle of his temper tantrum.

But it was worth a shot.

In a flash, Matt had overpowered his vampiric quarry. He shoved Mello against the arm of the lumpy couch, holding him down with one hand and tossing the gun away with the other. Mello flinched when Matt slipped his fingers below the waistline of his leather pants to get at the weapon, but that was his only sign of weakness. Next thing Matt knew, Mello was bucking like hell and trying to throw him off. The half eaten chocolate bar thunked to the carpet in the mess of thrashing limbs that ensued.

"What the hell's the big idea, asshole?" Mello bit his lips and fought until he was panting with exertion.

Matt grabbed both of Mello's wrists beneath the gloves and held fast. "I'm getting kind of sick of you ragging on me, Mello." His voice was low and dangerous. Mello froze.

"Why is it _my _fault?" Matt went on, enjoying his position of power over the seething blonde. It was not often that he bothered to waste his energy fighting back against the unstoppable cyclone that was Mello, but he figured he might as well make it last while he could. "If you know I'm such a slacker, why do you always ask me to do the jobs that take an attention span of longer than five seconds? If you think I'm the kind of guy that can't handle it, why tell me to do it in the first place?"

Mello sought to bite him, but Matt was too far away. "Don't act like I should go easy on you because you're helping me out of some sort of _charity_," Mello sneered at him. "Your ass is on the line right alongside mine. I'm telling you that you'd better start paying attention or we're _both_ going to get killed."

"Is that so?"

Mello had calmed somewhat. Slowly, Matt released his wrists. Shifting slightly atop of his companion, he reached into his pocket for a cigarette and tucked it between his lips with a sigh. If it weren't for Mello, he probably wouldn't even need to smoke so much in the first place.

Then Mello took a swing at him. Matt swore viciously and somehow managed to dodge it before it connected. The blow missed his jaw and instead knocked the fresh cigarette from between his teeth. He forgot to care about that, though, when Mello lost control of his swing and his fist sailed in an arc to crash painfully into the corner of the nearby coffee table.

"Fuck," Mello exploded, sucking in a sharp breath and glaring at Matt, as if it were all Matt's fault for not using his face to prevent Mello's knuckles from taking on damage.

"Completely not my fault," Matt insisted, retrieving his fallen cigarette and clamping it between his lips once more. But he didn't light it. Mello hated it when he smoked inside.

Finally, all the fight seemed to trickle out of Mello's system, and he went limp beneath Matt's weight above him. About friggen time, Matt decided. He tilted his head back and lifted the goggles from his face to peer uninhibited at Mello's slender, lithe form on the cushions beneath him. Damn.

As if reading the look in his eyes, Mello's features contorted into disgust. "Fuck off, asshole," he simmered. "I'm still mad at you."

Well, that was just too adorable. That wild, hateful look in Mello's eyes, those narrow hips of his that wriggled to get loose and then halted when the friction registered in Mello's mind and made him swallow. The cigarette left Matt's mouth and went back into his pocket. His patience was long gone, and he bent over Mello's slender form to take what he'd been waiting for.

He sealed his mouth over Mello's, and was not surprised to feel Mello stiffen under him. Matt slid his tongue languidly over Mello's pliant, soft lips and sucked lightly on the lower one with deliberate slowness. God, he would never get sick of the way Mello tasted. It was just too god damn _arousing_.

When Mello didn't react, Matt stuffed a hand into his perfect hair, mussing it and running his fingertips along Mello's scalp. The blonde shivered, and Matt began kissing him harder. Seductively, coyly. At last, Mello rewarded him with a long, low moan, and the vibrations of the delicious sound in his throat spurred Matt onward. Mello opened his mouth, allowed Matt's tongue inside, let their slick tongues dance together before reaching up to grip Matt's neck with a gloved hand and tug him in closer. It felt like sin. Like searing, unadulterated pleasure. It felt like it was burning his insides with a desire so carnal, so blinding that Matt could barely control it. Mello flexed his hips upward with a wanton jerk and Matt allowed a ragged gasp to tear from his throat as they broke for air.

But then Mello stopped. He moved to rise from the uneven surface of the battered couch, and Matt, still caught up in his swirling daze of ecstasy, did not prevent him from doing so. He stood and picked Matt's hand-held game up from the floor. The next thing Matt knew, the device had been thrust at his chest and Mello was striding for the door.

Matt stood, glancing between his game and Mello's retreating back in amusement. "Does this mean you'll stop yelling at me whenever I fuck us over?" he asked.

"Fuck you," Mello said.

Matt grinned, throwing his arms wide as if to invite him to do just that. "You wanna?"

All Mello did was curse under his breath and reach for the doorknob. "Maybe later, asshole."

Matt's grin widened. If he knew Mello, Mello would be back. For now, he'd set off to fix the mess Matt had apparently made, but later they'd be making up for lost time, back on the lumpy couch before the flicker of the computer screens and moaning their way into a mad frenzy. Mello would tangle his fingers in Matt's red hair, pressing their slick bodies together and injecting Matt with bolts of pleasure that would force him damn near to unconsciousness with the sheer satisfaction of it all. Because that was what Mello was like, in the end. Angry and aggressive all the time, putting duty first to make sure he kept his personal fucking mob squad in line, wild and violent and never willing to bend to intimacy unless it was on _his_ terms. So be it. Matt was a lazy ass and Mello was the force that drove them both. He could live with that.

The door shut with a click, so Matt flicked his goggles back over his eyes and turned his attention to the buttons on his hand-held. Mello was impossible all right, but that was just the way Matt liked it.

_A/N: This is the first time I've tackled this pairing in my own fanfic. I think Mello and Matt severely endanger my famous obsession with all things Dearka and Yzak. There is going to be a war zone inside my head soon, due to fighting over who'll get more attention. I tried to control the growing obsession so I wouldn't overload myself with TWO love ships, but… I failed. Mello and Matt forever. Expect lots more of them from me._


End file.
